Cracked Mary: (Jumping up excitedly.) That mad dog, he is a Dublin dog; he is betune you and Belfast—he is running ahead—you couldn't keep up with him.
Hyacinth Halvey: There is one, so, mad upon the road.
Cracked Mary: There is police after him, but they cannot come up with him; he destroyed a splendid sow; nine bonavs they buried or less.
Shawn Early: What place is he gone now?
Cracked Mary: He made off towards Craughwell, and he bit a fine young man.
Bartley Fallen: So he would too. Sure, when a mad dog would be going about, on horseback or wherever you are, you're ruined.
Cracked Mary: That dog is going on all the time; he wouldn't stop, but go ahead and bring that mouthful with him. He is still on the road; he is keeping the middle of the road; they say he is as big as a calf.
Hyacinth Halvey: It is the police I have a right to forewarn to go after him.
Cracked Mary: The motor cars is going to get out to track him, for fear he would destroy the world!
Mrs. Broderick: That is a very nice thought now, to be sending the motor cars after him to overturn and to crush him the same as an ass-car in their path.